


My Heart Beats for You

by Asterlian



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asterlian/pseuds/Asterlian
Summary: After the death of his soulmate and best friend, Kim Jongin's world goes grey. Broken and lost, he struggles to keep afloat and clings to the brief flashes of color his friends bring to his muted sight.Struggles to stay alive.Until a new transfer walks into the dance studio like he owns it.And slowly, Jongin's world begins to get a little bit brighter.





	My Heart Beats for You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm Asterlian! I'm still learning the layout of AO3, so I apologize in advance for any awkward formatting issues, I'll definitely be proof reading the heck out of this.  
> The main ship will be SeKai, but there is a bit of reference to KaiSoo in this first chapter!  
> Also, Jongin will be going through a lot of stages for grief, and I will make sure to mention any potential triggers in the notes before a chapter.  
> Like this.  
> First chapter contains character death and Jongin with anxiety.  
> I hope you all enjoy the first chapter! If you want to come chat about how awesome our Exo boys are or anything else, come find me on tumblr at asterlian.tumblr.com !

###  Grand Jete 

_It had happened right in the crescendo of his first year Undergrad Recital. One second had Jongin’s sight filled with the stiff crimson tulle of his partner’s tutu, with the glittering onyx rhinestones on her bodice, filled with the bright stage lights as he lifted her from arabesque, hands steady on her hip and her thigh, lifting her higher-_  
_The next second brought grey._  
_The swelling of the music that Jongin had spent hours listening to suddenly was muted, like cotton had been stuffed in his ears, and his hands shook, slipping from Alicia’s hip as he brought her back down to pointe harder than he intended. He fumbled through the last few steps of their routine, heart pounding painfully as struggled to maintain a grip on the slick satin of her now-grey bodice as the pair slipped un-gracefully into the ending position, a fish dive._  
_The muffled music was replaced by a dull roar of applause, and Jongin nearly let Alicia fall again as they straightened, catching the discreet side glare she sent him but ignoring it._  
_They held their performance pose, smiling wide, chests heaving. Normally, this was the point when Jongin could feel the in-explainable rush of emotions swirl around him like they did after every performance, adrenaline pumping through him, his own natural formula for a high._  
_But not tonight._  
_His head hurt terribly, he was out of breath and his muscles ached, but it was nothing compared to the blistering pain tearing apart in his chest, and, remembering to maintain composure, escorted his partner off stage as quickly and normally as he could._  
_“What the_ **hell** _was that, Kai?!” Alicia spit once they were away from the stage, wrenching the ornate flower from her hair and spinning to face him. "You dropped me!”_  
_Jongin stared with wide, empty eyes at her furious face, her furious grey face, the grey flower in her hands, the grey dress, the grey, grey, grey, only split apart by more muted whites and blacks of the dim dressing rooms._  
_He opened his mouth to speak, but another wave of pain tore through his heart, and he hunched over, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Dark spots began to build at the corners of his vision like vignette, and only served to fuel the panic beginning to wrack his mind._  
_Alicia’s pointe shoes disappeared under her long legs as she kneeled down next to him, and soon other pairs of feet in normal street shoes were doing the same._  
_“-ai? Kai?!”_  
_He could barely register the voice of his coach over the roaring blood in his ears, and gasped for breath as he felt soft hands smooth his sweaty fringe from his eyes. Junmyeon’s pale face pinched with concern danced into Jongin’s spinning vision, and with an effort that felt they were eighty pound weights, he raised his hands to grip his coach’s shoulders, hands wrinkling the black suit._  
_“-Soo, Soo, Kyung…soo, hospital, Junmyeon, please-“he managed to get out, breath hiccupping and shaky._  
_Jongin was hauled to his feet by his tiny coach, legs as unsteady as a baby deer, as a beginner on pointe, and was ushered through the crowd of grey faces, out of the grey backstage, out into the grey and black night, and into the passenger seat of Junmyeon’s black Mercedes Benz._  
_Seoul passed by in a haze of dull headlights and murky street signs, and Jongin found himself shaking and struggling to breathe, fear building up like a tsunami as all the desperate explanations for what was happening came to one terrifying, heart stopping conclusion that he wouldn’t, no, couldn’t bear to sit in his mind._  
_A bundle of something dropped into his lap, jerking him out of the rising panic, and his monochromatic vision caught the clothes he had worn before his performance. He realized Junmyeon must have grabbed his bag before they left the auditorium, and was so focused on thinking that thought through that he barely caught his coach’s voice again._  
_“-old…-gin. It…-old outside, Jongin. It’s cold, put them on.” Jongin slowly obeyed his coach, numb fingers pulling the baggy hoodie over his head and sliding the joggers over his performance tights, lifting his hips against the seatbelt to get them completely on. He dimly registered a pale hand gripping the gear shift in between them in a white-knuckled grip as Junmyeon wove through traffic, muttering too quietly for Jongin’s pounding ears to hear._  
_They pulled into the hospital in record time, a time that Jongin was sure was only achieved through speeding, and he was grateful. Out of the car, not even bothering to close the door, he began to jog towards the hospital entrance, ignoring the faint ringing of his cell phone that must have been in his bag, and the sound of Junmyeon answering it._  
_He stumbled through the automatic doors, ignoring the looks of the hospital staff as he began to run past the front desk, ignoring the calls after him, ignoring Junmyeon’s explanation, leaving it all behind. His feet guided him through the hallways they’ve walked through hundreds of times in the past months, to the elevator, up to the fourth floor, and down another winding hallway, until they stopped in front of a familiar room._  
_Shaking hands fumbled the handle open, shaking legs pushed the door open, and Jongin’s world stopped._  
_Kyungsoo lay on the hospital bed, still and silent, more at peace than Jongin had seen him for weeks, and surrounded by a group of doctors who had turned to look at the dancer when he had busted in the room._  
_One shaky step._  
_Another._  
_And he pushed through the protesting doctors to stand over his soulmate, vision spinning and darkening, forcing him to his knees. The noise that slipped through his lips was a pained, high-pitched whine as Jongin reached out with quivering fingers, tracing the strong brows, the soft skin on the head and the multiple scars there, both unhealed and healed, the heart-shaped lips he loved so much, the gentle arch of his nose, the eyelids that covered those wide, chocolate eyes Jongin fell into, now closed to him._  
_He dimly felt his lips moving to form his disbelief, repeating the same words over and over again, unsure if any sound was coming out, but when the first tears rolled down his cheeks, Jongin knew the sobs that followed were audible, and filled with his pain._  
_He took Kyungsoo’s hands and traced the cool skin of his wrists, now empty of the invading IVs that had always pierced the smooth skin, pierced his skin and injected the poison that tried slow his body from killing itself, tried to stop the cells inside from growing and mutating._  
_“Soo…Soo, Soo, Kyungsoo-“ he groaned in between his sobs, hunching over the small frame and clenching the limp hands to his chest, as if to try to get them to stop the splintering pain inside._  
_Jongin was no stranger to pain. As a dancer, he’s dealt with sore muscles, bruises from the studio floors, and even a broken ankle from when he landed a grand jete wrong._  
_But the agony of losing his soulmate is far worse than he ever could have imagined._  
_As he continued to sob, the wail of an ambulance cut through the dark streets of Seoul, flashing lights speeding towards the scene of an accident where a blond haired boy lay pinned under the crumpled car, a mangled metal bar lodged through his chest._

#####  Two Years Later 

A strong hand with copper skin gently rested on the wooden barre that ran along one wall, the opposite hand suspended out beside him. He slowly kicked his working leg out to the side, up to hip height, before bringing it back behind his supporting leg, breathing evenly witch each move. Jongin continued the familiar exercise, kick out, hold, back to 3rd, hold, kick out, hold, back to 3rd, repeat, repeat, repeat.  
He continued to go through his routine of stretches and exercises, relishing in the feeling of tight muscles loosening with each stretch, a small smile touching his mouth.  
_naui du nuneul gameumyeon_  
_tteooreuneun geu nundongja_  
_jakku gaseumi siryeoseo_  
_ichyeojigil baraesseo_  
The quiet dance room was suddenly cut through with Jongin’s ringtone, and he paused lifting his head from where it had been tucked to his knee. After briefly contemplating ignoring the call, he sighed, pulling his leg from the barre and moving over to the mirror where he had haphazardly dumped his bag, digging through the pockets until he found it, not even checking the caller ID before he answered.  
“Hello?’  
_“Jongin!”_ The dancer winced at the loud voice of his roommate yelling into his ear, and pulled the phone back a bit before answering.  
“Hey Yeol, what’s up?”  
_“Where are you?!”_ Chanyeol’s voice sounded strangely high pitched like it always did when he was trying to hide something, and Jongin could feel his brow tic. Whenever Chanyeol had to hide something, it usually was some god awful devious plan he and Baekhyun had stirred up.  
More than once it had involved fireworks.  
“Uh…the dance studio, why?” He asked, glancing around the grey room.  
_“I told you!”_ Another voice echoed through the call, and Jongin frowned as he recognized Baekhyun’s voice.  
“What’s going on, what have you two done now?”  
Chanyeol scoffed. _“We haven’t done anything drama queen. But do you know what time it is?”_  
A quick glance at his phone. “Yeah, it’s 11:00, why?”  
_“It’s not ’11:00’, it’s 11:38. If you leave in five minutes, you can catch the bus back home!”_  
Jongin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the rising headache he felt there. “Chanyeol, why does it matter if I catch the bus in five minutes-“  
_“Hey Jongin, it’s Jongdae. Can you please just come home? I’ve been dealing with those two for the past three hours and if I have to do any more by myself, I’m going to drown myself in a tub of paint.”_  
“Why are you at my-“  
_“Is that Jongin? Does he know about the-”_  
_“Oh my god, Yixing, shut the hell up!!”_ There was the sounds of loud scuffling, swearing, and some yelling in Chinese that Jongin couldn’t understand, so he went quiet, ears perked curiously. Finally, Jongdae came back on the line, sounding strangely distorted, like he was holding the phone to the ceiling. _“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!!”_ and the line went dead.  
The dancer let out an aggravated sigh, glancing desperately around the studio, any hope of squeezing in a few more hours of practice tossed out the window. Padding over to his bag, Jongin pulled on a baggy black hoodie with the words SUPREME stamped over the chest, slipped off the soft black ballet shoes and grabbed his tennis shoes to put on outside the room, slung the bag over his shoulder and left, flicking the lights off as he shut the door.

Jongin expected a lot of things. He had expected the apartment to be on fire, he had expected police to be walking around because someone had been murdered, he had expected something along those lines.  
So when he finally managed to shove the door open at 12 amt, the hinges sticking because despite the 30,000 complaints they send to the landlord, it never gets fixed, he was preparing for the worst.  
What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see his group of friends crowded into his and Chanyeol’s apartment, decorations strung up all over the place, boxes and gift bags piled on the coffee table, the only thing on fire were the candles on the cake held in Junmyeon’s hands.  
“Happy birthday!!” They shouted, and someone-Jongin would bet the whole cake that it was Baekhyun-threw a handful of confetti in his face.  
Spitting out the paper bits and blinking at the sudden onslaught of color his friends brought, he couldn’t help the embarrassed grin that split across his face.  
“Oh my god, I thought Dae had set the rice cooker on fire again, I thought my apartment would be burnt to the ground-“ he sputtered out, relieved laughter spilling out from him and he nearly face-planted as Minseok patted him heavily on the back.  
“That was once! Only once, three years ago, would you let it go?!” Jongdae shouted pointing a popper at Jongin and pulling the string, releasing the paper streamers inside with a loud bang, and Yixing, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun did the same until multicolored strings hung from Jongin like he was a Christmas tree.  
“Move, he has to blow out his candles- _use that on me and I’ll beat you with your goddamn guitar Chanyeol, don’t test me_ -make a wish!” Junmyeon elbowed around the Jongin’s tall, curly haired roommate who stared at the popper in his hand sadly.

Jongin grinned at the antics as the cake was held out in front of him, and he stared at the flickering flames, thinking hard. Whenever he was a kid, Jongin remembered wishing for things like a new bike, a new pair of dance shoes or a new mp3 player, and-for the longest time-that he would meet his soulmate, so the world of muted greys, blacks, and whites would finally be lit up in “an explosion of color” like his parents or his older sisters would always say.  
Wincing and pushing away painful memories back behind the grey wall he kept around them now, Jongin thought hard. Right now, in this moment, surrounded with laughter and warmth and the colors that his friends brought him, Jongin couldn’t find anything to wish for, so he tucked it away until he could.


End file.
